


I thought I thought of everything

by icywind



Series: Lepidoptera [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Clint's self-esteem issues when it comes to relationships is showing, M/M, Pre-Slash, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton relationship rule number 9 - when something is wrong avoid the problem and hope it goes away. </p><p>It'll only work for a day or two, but, maybe that'll be long enough to lick his wounds and regroup?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I thought I thought of everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidneybelveire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneybelveire/gifts).



> This fic follows directly on the heels of [Green Eyes and Missed Clues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3851467) and reading that will help with where Clint is coming from. 
> 
> This fic is also dedicated to Sid, who jumped onboard the silly idea of a world where the Avengers have bfly/moth wings with such enthusiasm from the start. I'm sorry this fic is so angsty-Clint, but, it's Nat's first (actual) appearance and I couldn't not dedicate that you. I hope you like it.

On most days it looked like a dance. A beautiful deadly dance, but a dance nonetheless. Give and take. Clint and Natasha were not only well matched, but they knew each other well, and often had to add in little stipulations to keep things a little more interesting. Today they had handicapped the fight with a common one - a no fly rule. 

Natasha blocked a series of strikes from Clint, then ducked in to hit at his kidneys. He swept to the side, his broad wing deflecting most of her blow and tried to sweep kick her. Natasha sprung out of the way then made her own flurry of attacks against him, most of which he managed to block, but it put him off balance and left Natasha with an opening. It ended with her legs around his upper body, levering his head off the mat. He struggled for a moment, his wings twitching, before grunting.

“You’re sloppy. Pay attention,” Natasha admonished as they untangled themselves. “Stop moping.”

“M’not moping,” he groused, levering himself up and glancing briefly at the imprint of his eye that had been left by his scales on the mat when Nat had dropped him. She raised a brow and he shrugged his concession. Even he didn’t normally shed that badly. 

They took turns examining each other’s wings before settling companionably on a bench. Clint loved Nat’s delicate glass-like wings. As with nearly everything else about her, they went against expectations; appearing so very fragile when in reality they were probably nearly as resilient as Steve’s. Whatever they had done to her in the Red Room had augmented the strength in her wings – among other things. As they settled he flapped his wings once to brush against Nat’s and she in turn flitted hers against his in a grounding, soothing, gesture. It was a reconnection. An I love you. Something neither of them had experienced much in their lives before SHIELD and even after they joined didn’t share with many others.

“He doesn’t want me,” Clint said quietly.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, glancing up then down before continuing. “He refused to treat my wings yesterday.”

“Are you sure he just didn’t want to make sure medical really looked them over first?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little dark. A little helpless. “You should have seen the look on his face when Bobbi offered…” he clenched his jaw against the sweep of pain and rejection. After all these years you’d think it would get easier to take. Maybe this one hurt more because he’d wanted it so very badly. “Even she could tell.”

Maybe this one hurt worse because a small (stupid, stupid, so very stupid) part of him had thought he might have a tiny chance.

Natasha tilted his chin up to study his face, locked her eyes with his a moment, then nodded. “I am sorry, Little Hawk.”

Clint responded with a sad smile – he must look real bad if she was using that particular diminutive. 

“Yeah, well…” he’d tried a few things he’d read about in books he was too embarrassed to admit to checking out from the library. It wasn’t as if he’d had any normal examples of relationships to go off of. No courting tips from parents. No talks on how to express an interest in another person for anything more than a quick fuck. Coulson was a classy guy; Clint had wanted to try for him. Show he was interested. He’d thought if Coulson didn’t respond to the overtures it might hurt less than outright asking and being told no. But after months of consciously giving off subtle signals he’d read about he had nothing to show for it. 

And it still hurt damn near as much as a full on rejection. 

“Perhaps you were too subtle?” 

“This is Coulson we’re talking about. He wears black on black patterned ties sometimes. Subtle is his thing.” 

Clint just wasn’t good enough was all. Never had been, really. No one in his life had ever really wanted him for himself. If he’d been wanted it was only for what he could do for someone. His parents had never really wanted him. Nor had anyone at Carsons - until they’d figured out his skill with a bow. And sure, SHIELD was different. He was wanted for his skills, but he had a few friends. He’d managed to build a better life for himself than he’d ever thought possible. He would just have to live and be happy with the fact that he was lucky enough Coulson wanted to be friends with him.

“Do you trust me?” 

He wrinkled his brow.

“Do you trust me?” She said it a touch slower, her lips quirking a little into a smirk. Her, I have more information than you, smirk.

“You know I do.”

“Then trust me in this. It’ll all work out and probably better than you’re expecting. I know how your mind works Clint. Just…give it time.”

“I’ll do my best Tasha. I’ll do my best.”

~~

After a quick shower Clint dutifully made his way over to medical where the tear in his wing was retouched. He then proceeded to make a nuisance of himself visiting other agents currently stuck on bed rest until one of the nurses (in a fit of exasperation) commandeered him into helping her pass out lunches - which is how he ended up spending his lunch hour with Ramirez. Who was more than happy to trade his fruit cup for an extra pudding. 

After that, Clint made his way to McGuiness’s office to hand in his paper work and go over the analysis of the op to see where things had gone wrong. What, if anything, they could have done differently. As it turned out, nothing – it had been some faulty intel that turned things on their heads for the team. Cold comfort in the end, but, at least Ramirez was going to be fine in the long run.

Clint almost went to the range later that afternoon. His fingers itched to use his bow again, a rifle having been easier for the op, but he held back. He tried to tell himself that it was because it was a good idea to rest every once in a while, and not at all because he knew Coulson would expect him to be there. 

He couldn’t really lie that he wasn’t avoiding the possibility of running into the man when he went to dinner early (Coulson always ate later in the dinner window while on base) and got his meal packaged to go. At least it meant he was able to grab the overripe mango and banana (two of Clint’s major weaknesses) one of the chefs had saved for him. Usually the bananas were set aside for baking and the mango occasionally snatched up by another crafty agent.

Dinner sorted, he settled in with his laptop and prepared for a quiet evening (and hopefully not too many texts from Natasha about ice cream and romcoms).

~~

His phone chimed at 9:00, just as he was contemplating heading to bed.

It was Coulson.

_Didn’t see you today. Everything going okay?_

Clint bit his lip.

_Just fine. Was busy is all._

_So I heard. Candy striping? Really?_

_My presence lights up everyone’s day and you know it._

_I'm sure it does something like that._

_Did you need me for anything?_

Coulson’s reply took a moment to come and Clint tried not to think about that too much.

_No._

Then immediately.

_No, just checking in._

Was Coulson upset? Shit, did he think Clint was upset? He was, but, he didn't want _Coulson_ to know that.

_Sorry I didn’t stop in. Just busy. Catch up tomorrow?_

He couldn’t avoid him forever – he’d figure out something was wrong (if he hadn’t already).

_Sure. Lunch?_

_Hell yeah – pizza Thursday._

Then.

_Not saving you any pineapple._

_Pineapple on pizza is an abomination._

_Your face is an abomination._

It really really wasn’t.

_Very Middle School of you, Barton._

_Awesome! Do I get a purple star for graduating elementary?_

_I’ll see what I can do._

Nothing came to mind for Clint reply wise and he was good with just letting the conversation die off. And then, five minutes later.

_Good night Barton._

He huffed out a sigh.

_Night sir._

He set his alarm and let the phone flop back onto his bed, scrubbed a hand over his face, and sighed again. There was no way he’d be able to sleep in his normal bed. Not feeling like this. Inadequate. Unnerved. Vulnerable. 

They took up a lot more space, but SHIELD had a vested interest in making its agents feel comfortable and offered a wide range of alternative beds to suit their needs. For Clint that meant a hammock mounted at an angle and obscured behind what appeared from the outside to be a giant leaf (which organically sprouted from a ‘tree’ that housed shelving units). He couldn’t quite believe it when his offhand comment to Fury had resulted in that design, but he loved it all the same. He couldn’t be seen behind the leaf, though carefully cut slits allowed him to spy on the rest of his room, moderately sized as it was. 

He settled in, his wings flexing once from where they emerged out of the bottom of the hammock, and attempted to get what sleep he could. 

He was going to need every bit he could get if he was going convince Coulson that everything was fine still between them.

 

  


 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/icywind/media/bfly/natsm.jpg.html)

**Author's Note:**

> Natasha's wings are those of a Greta oto or Glasswing Butterfly. We've had them on occasion in our vivarium but I have never taken a good enough pic outside of the hatching area. And all the mounts in the museum itself just don't capture them properly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lepidoptera Series Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3894346) by [Insidious Inkstains (sidneybelveire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneybelveire/pseuds/Insidious%20Inkstains)




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